The House of Rogan
by M.Rogan
Summary: Post film. A Boondock Saints fiction. More of a summary will be given within.


EPILOGUE

It was a night full of firsts, for I had never seen him this way, and granted we had never had a fight like this before. The room was tense as I sat at my vanity physically attempting to keep my cool and appear calm and collected. My hair was pulled back in a loose bun and my bare legs were crossed, my hands rested on my spaghetti strapped pale pink silk night gown that stopped at mid thigh. He simply paced around the room with his hands on his hips. He was still sweaty from his midnight run; an action that itself had been a red flag to begin with. Outside I appeared calm and collected as I just sat and watched him pace, inside I was terrified.

He hadn't said a word all day since I had returned from work and he and his father and brother had returned from their last job. The run occurred randomly and worried me. When I met him at the door he simply glared at me and stalked past through the large oak door, clipping my shoulder on the way in.

It was an interesting predicament since he had refused to tell me what was wrong.

"Maybe if you tell me what's wrong," I said softly partially attempting to keep my temper down and keep from crying at the same time.

"Who was the other man?" he suddenly exploded. My eyes widened in shock. _Other man? _I thought to myself.

"What are you talking about?" I yelled back appalled.

"I'm not fuckin' stupid Meg, don't play games with me," he said in his thick Irish accent, which was still prominent even though he was speaking through his teeth.

What was going on? This was not the Connor I knew at all. I jumped as he angrily took a swipe at a candle off of our dresser sending it into the wall, leaving a nasty dent. I was almost quite literally floored. It had been 4 amazing months since I had met the saints and developed a deep romance with the youngest brother. I was head over heels…what other man??

"The other man, I saw him with you today," he yelled. I racked the contents of my brain to figure out if I seriously had come in contact with a man at all today. I had spoken to a young shop keep and helped him pick up some fallen fruit but that was it. Now I was angry. "You don't know what the hell you're talking about," I screamed getting up out of my seat.

"I'm not fuckin' blind love," he yelled back in my face. "Well if you're not blind you're crazy," I exclaimed. "How dare you accuse me of this," I screamed pushing him hard in the chest. I watched him 

pull back his hand and for a split second thought this whole thing was a dream and then was yanked down to reality as I a swift slap against the side of my face. I let out a small yelp, and was sent spinning crashing hard on the floor. _He hit me!!_ My head screamed as the tears began to pour drenching my face. My hair had come undone from the blow and I felt something warm ooze from my cheek bone which had been split open.

I held my face shocked and crying. I glanced up at his face to see that he immediately was breaking down. He didn't' even look the same; he was turning back into the Connor I knew and fell in love with. I hoisted myself up by clutching onto my vanity and slowly began walking towards the bathroom. "Oh god Meg, I…I'm so sorry "he said reaching for me, his voice strained and full of angst. I flinched away from his hand and sauntered into the bathroom as he sat down on the bed and put his head in his hands, completely numb.

I was sobbing uncontrollably pulling my hair slowly away from my face and inspecting my cheek bone. It would definitely be a bruise. I washed my face and attempted to maintain my composure…debating on what to do and what to say to him when and if I decided to go to him. I suddenly was angry. Angry at his misconception, angry at how he jumped to conclusions, and enraged that he had physically struck out at me. I walked into the bedroom to see him legitimately a wreck, his head still in his hands. He looked at me as I stared at the floor and walked up to him. "Meg…I…" I raised my hand and slapped him hard across the face; I couldn't contain my emotions and felt my eyes watering.

He looked up at me and said nothing, knowing that he deserved it and more. He reached out to touch me and I stiffened as his hand touched my hip bone and then slid to the small of my back pulling me softly to him. He gazed up at me, and I stared down at him tears still running down my face. He squeezed my wrist and then buried his head in my stomach beginning to sob. I put my hands on both sides of his head but still stayed still, stiff, and tense as he wrapped his arms around my waist keeping his head on my abdomen.

"I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry," he repeated over and over again. I didn't know how to react. I had to admit I was partially sympathetic at seeing him regret and break down. However I refused to tolerate the behavior he had shown me, and found there was no rational excuse for it. I was in a limbo. "Connor," I croaked out whipping my eyes and then tearing up again as he looked up at me his face streaked with tears. "Just go to bed," I said unwrapping his hands from around my waist and climbing into bed.


End file.
